


my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.

by redahlia



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redahlia/pseuds/redahlia
Summary: When he knew there was no going back, when he realised he had no other choice, he turned to the only person he trusted enough. He ignored the rising panic, the noise, the regret. He looked Ardeth straight in the eye and held his sword firmly.“You take care of her,” those were words worth remembering. Ardeth’s eyes widened, but before he could rationalise the whole thing, O’Connell had basically pushed him down the manhole.
Relationships: Ardeth Bay/Original Character(s), Ardeth Bay/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. the bentleys

**Author's Note:**

> I started this year right and rewatched The Mummy (1999), my childhood obsession, and my brain decided to ask me: but what if Dr. Bey had a daughter? What if you wrote about that? And my undying love for Ardeth Bay got in the picture. So there it is.  
> The story is a sort of fill-in, so I tried to add scenes rather than covering the ones from the movie. I'm not a fan of incredibly long stories, and I kept this as short as possible.
> 
> I do not own the characters in the story except for Azalea. This was just a fun project that took me two days (please do not have high expectations). English is not my first language, therefore there might be some mistake and quite a few repetitions (I did my best).

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1909 A.D. _

  
“Now, you be good and listen to Terence,” the woman smiled as she caressed her daughter’s hair, pushing them away from her face. The seven-year-old child looked at her with her big, dark eyes, a pout on her lips as she held tightly onto the blanket in her hand. She’d been woken up in the middle of the night by her parents telling her they had to leave, and that she was going to stay with her uncle Terence for a few days. She had never thought the man was actually her uncle, but he’d been around since she could remember - and he allowed her to play in his office at the museum, which she always enjoyed.   
“When are you coming back?” the child almost whined, looking at her mother and then at her father. The man sighed and crouched in front of her, opening his arms to welcome her in his embrace, and she ran straight into his arms, blanket forgotten on the ground.   
“We’ll be back before you blink three times, my treasure,” he whispered, squeezing her gently.   
“Mr. Bentley,” a man cleared his throat at the door, and he turned his head ever so slightly, still holding his daughter against his chest. The man tilted his head towards the entrance, where the door was waiting open, signalling that they were ready to leave. He sighed and placed his hands on the child’s shoulders.   
“It’s just a quick job, promise,” he smiled, and bopped her nose as he rose. “It’s alright, Azalea.”   
“Here,” the mother said, getting close again, a necklace hanging from her fingers. It shone silver, and the weak moonlight - the only light in the room - seemed to be absorbed by the small, dark stone on it. The woman clasped it around the child’s neck and tapped against the crystal that rested on her chest, a broad smile on her lips. “This way, you won’t be scared - just hold it tightly, and everything will be alright.” Immediately, her small hand ran to it, and she wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the cold of it on her palm.   
“Thank you, Terence,” the man was saying meanwhile. The curator nodded, a polite smile on his lips. He knew how much it bothered the Bentleys that they had to ask him such a big favour - despite him repeatedly saying that it was his pleasure, that their kid was a wonder - and with such a short notice. So he did his best to reassure them even while they walked outside, casting worried glances at the pair child-man.   
“We love you!” the woman almost shouted as their vehicle rocked forward, and then they disappeared from their sight.

Their ship sank two days later, leaving Azalea alone - almost.   
Terence Bey wasn’t known for his good heart, nor for his desire to build a family, but when the news had reached him he hadn’t been able to let go of the little, scared, grieving girl. And he’d raised as best as he could, as if she were his own. It wasn’t an easy life, but they managed.


	2. azalea bey

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1923 A.D. _

“Are you bleeding on my couch again?” Azalea’s voice rang clear as she walked into Dr. Bey’s office, holding a pile of books in her hands. “Last time it took me a week to fully clean it,” she added, slowing her pace when the pile wavered. Tattooed hands took the weight from her, and she looked at the man in dark robes balancing the books in his hold.   
“Believe it or not, this time someone else did the job for us,” Ardeth smiled in her direction, ignoring the curator’s muttering in clear disapproval behind him.   
“Except they let one of the men go,” he stared at the Medjai before greeting the girl by placing a hand on her shoulder, a smile immediately forming on his lips. The man was unable to maintain a frown when what he’d grow to consider his daughter was around. Ardeth clicked his tongue and mumbled something none of the other two could hear as he placed the books on the desk.   
“I’m sure that if the Chief deemed it a good idea, then there is no need to worry,” Azalea patted Dr. Bey’s hand reassuringly, and Ardeth sent her a grateful smile. “The Carnahans girl is here, by the way,” she added, looking at Terence. The man sighed softly and nodded, letting go of her hand and returning to his desk.   
“I will show her around,” he announced, putting on his jacket before nodding in Ardeth’s direction. Azalea stopped him before he walked out of the door, straightening his tie, then smiling in approval.   
“Try to not scare her away, she’s smart and we could use her,” she warned. The man chuckled, bowed almost mockingly, and closed the door behind him.   
When he was gone, she turned with her hands on her hips and arched her brows in Ardeth’s direction. He froze on the spot, unsure on what was going on exactly.   
“Is -” he cleared his sudden dry throat, “is something wrong?” she snorted, unable to maintain a straight face.   
“I don’t know. Are you going to greet me properly?” she tapped her fingers against her sides, shifting her body weight on one leg only. It took Ardeth a moment to register her words, too worried about her stance, and then he grinned. With two long steps, he was in front of her, his arms around her waists to pick her up in a hug.   
“I’m sorry,” she laughed, arms shooting around his neck as her feet left the ground. “You know he doesn’t approve of it.” He placed her back down, and they both walked to the couch where they sat close to each other.   
“He  _ pretends _ he doesn’t,” she shrugged, leaning back. “You know he likes you.”   
“You’re his daughter, I think that holds more value than him liking me,” he arched an eyebrow, and Azalea rolled her eyes before crossing her legs at the ankle. Ardeth watched as she fixed the white skirt on her knees and rolled down the sleeves of her shirt before turning her attention fully on him, playing with the necklace he knew was once her mother’s. She had her hair in a braid wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck, and wild, soft curls fell down around her face in almost a picturesque way until she pushed them away, annoyed by its constantly getting in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile again - since the moment he’d met her, she’d been the source of many of his smiles. Perhaps she was just that kind of person. In spite of all her grief and suffering, she was a solar person, kind and funny, and smart. When he’d first met her, she was a scrawny little thing, consumed by her pain at such a young age. Little by little, he’d seen her get back on her feet, observing from afar until his mother had told him that perhaps a friend would do her good - her parents could not be replaced, but she had adults looking after her: what she needed, was someone she could be young with.   
“How’s the Chief job treating you?” she asked softly, reaching for his face and rubbing her thumb against his cheek, right beneath his tattoo, where a streak of dust lingered despite his attempt of cleaning up. “You look exhausted.”   
“It was really close this time,” he sighed, leaning onto her hand, his beard tickling her soft palm. He often felt like she was the only one he could be vulnerable with, allowing himself to not be on edge all the time. He believed in what he did, strongly, but sometimes it was nice to feel the burden getting off his shoulder. “I really hope I did the right thing letting that man go.”   
“You did what you thought was best, darling,” the endearment left her lips softly, as she smiled encouragingly at him, her thumb still drawing small circles against his skin. He nodded and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax a bit more, her soothing touches a comfort and a relief at the same time.   
“Do you have a new librarian?” he mumbled, his words a bit slurred. She grinned, taking his head in both her hands and gently guiding him down against the pillow sewn on the backrest of the couch. He seemed unaware of it, simply following her movements like a puppet.   
“Yes, her name is Evelyn Carnahan. She’s a great Egyptologist, still the Bembridge scholars think she lacks the experience,” she moved the hands from Ardeth’s face, and despite his initial hum of complaint he didn’t stir, his eyes still closed and lips slightly parted. Azalea sighed and got up, pushing Ardeth’s legs on the couch so he’d be in a more comfortable position as he slept, then sat at the desk to read.

A soft knock at the door distracted her, and when she looked up the sun was low and the only light was on the pages in front of her. Azalea glanced at Ardeth, who had now completely lying down on the couch that was too small for his figure. She tiptoed to the door, knowing how easily he could wake up, cracked the door open enough to see who was on the other side. A girl stood there, and she smiled broadly seeing her. She parted her lips ready to speak, but Azalea shushed her rapidly, bringing a finger to her own lips before glancing back in the room. Ardeth had not moved, his back turned towards the door, and she stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her. She gestured at the girl to walk with her, still not saying a word, and when they were far from the room enough, she turned to smile at her.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to risk waking him up,” she said, not planning on adding any further explanation, then extended her hand out. “You must be Miss Carnahan, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Azalea Bey.”   
“Please, Evelyn is just fine,” the other girl said, taking her hand while looking back. “Is he alright?”   
“Yes, yes - just tired,” she followed her gaze, then shrugged. “Then you can call me Azalea.”   
“Your father told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already,” Azalea smiled at her words, but shook her head softly.   
“He’s not - well, he is, but not -” she huffed, and Evelyn frowned, her thin brows forming almost a straight line above her eyes. “Dr. Bey is not my father,” she cleared her throat. She always felt guilty after saying it, but if she intended to make a name for herself, she had to put some distance when it came to the museum - nevermind she had been using his surname for years. It was easier that way, that’s what she told herself.   
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Evelyn seemed mortified, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “I just assumed - and your name -”   
“It’s alright,” Azalea laughed softly, interlocking her arm with Evelyn’s. “He raised me. It’s a complicated story - perhaps one day I’ll tell you about it.”

They spent a couple of hours walking around the museum -  _ it’s wonderful to be here when no one can come in _ , Azalea had told Evelyn, guiding her from room to room - and in the end Evelyn had been yawning for so long tears were forming in her eyes.   
Azalea let her go, and when she went back to the office, Ardeth was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First two chapters have been published together to give more background on the relationships (also, the first one is really short, I know). The updates will be weekly!


	3. ameli

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1926 A.D. _

She walked into Dr. Bey’s office with a weird feeling weighing on her shoulders. She had a bunch of scattered papers in her arms - kindly gifted by Evie’s mess in the libraries. How had she managed to knock over every single bookshelf? All because of Tuthmosis!   
“These need to be -” she started, her back to the room as she’d opened the door with her elbow. When she turned, her arms felt suddenly weak, and all the papers fell on the floor again. “Ardeth,” she said breathlessly, taking in the figure of the man standing next to the desk. Dr. Bey muttered something about the papers that went unheard by the pair as they regarded each other - they hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. His Chief duties had increased, she’d been busy with the museum and her studies, and although they’d been writing to each other, it was  _ not _ the same as being with each other.   
Before she knew it, she was running in his direction. He caught her almost mid-air as she threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. The curator cleared his throat, almost uncomfortable, but knew better than to say anything as he looked away.   
“ _ Ameli _ ,” he murmured in her hair, his arms wrapping around her waists. His clothes still smelled of the night spent in the desert. “Are you alright?” he asked then, moving his head so he could try to look at her - she refused to move though, face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and holding onto him. All those months, she had felt uneasy, unable to breath until she had one of his letters in her hands, or Terence told her what he was up to. Just by having him back there she realised that her heart was filled with the fear of losing him. She knew he was at risk whenever he went out, even more since he’d become Chief. She thought she’d learned how to deal with it, but she hadn’t.   
“Azalea, another time I would’ve left you two to catch up, but right now -” Terence stopped and looked at the girl -  _ woman, he had to remind himself _ \- as she moved her head, a worried expression suddenly painted on her reddish face. It was an odd mix, with the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, and her bright pink cheeks, and that confusion creating a crease on her brow. Ardeth slowly put her back down, and although she took just a step sideways, her hands still placed against his chest, as if she feared he might disappear if she wasn’t touching him, it felt like the whole room stood between them.   
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes moving from one man to the other, and noticing the doubt in both their gazes. “Just tell me.”   
“They found The City of The Dead,” Ardeth said, one of his hands running to one of hers on his chest. Her eyes widened and she glanced up at him.   
“Hamunaptra?” she wondered in a whisper. And then, because she already knew the answer, “Who? How?”   
“Miss Carnahan has found a map,” the curator said, and she tensed.  _ Of course it ended up being Evelyn _ . “I burned part of it, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. She knows it exists, and she’s too curious for her own sake.”   
“We have to keep an eye on them,” Ardeth added, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. No movement went unnoticed by the curator, but he had long learned they needed their space. And their time. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the one.   
“Of course,” Azalea said, letting go of his robes and reaching with her free hand for her necklace, rubbing the black stone. Ardeth lingered a moment with his hand on hers before taking a step back. It was like watching the breaking of a spell.   
“Walk him out, Azalea,” Terence said gently, a smile on his lips despite the whole situation. “I’ll see how I can fix the mess in the library.”

They walked side by side in the corridors that led to the back exit, where another Medjai was waiting with their horses. Every other step, their hand brushed tentatively. Before Ardeth could reach for the door, Azalea grabbed his hand, and he stopped immediately, turning in her direction.   
“Don’t hurt her,” she managed to choke out, and the man looked down at her with a frown. The corridor wasn’t well lit, but still he could make out her face, and the way her brows were arched in an almost pleading expression. He wondered if perhaps he just knew her too much. “She’s going to be difficult. She’s stubborn, and curious, and acts on an impulse almost every time - but she’s good.” Ardeth wanted to promise her he would not hurt her - he could see how much the two had grown close. He also feared Azalea had been lonely when he wasn’t there, while Evelyn Carnahan was. He wanted to promise her her friend wouldn’t be harmed, but knew he had to do whatever necessary to protect Hamunaptra. The thought haunted him: would he still be able do what he needed to, if it meant risking losing her? He wasn’t so sure.   
“I won’t,” Azalea knew it was all he could tell her, and she nodded softly before bringing his hand up to her lips, leaving a tender kiss against his knuckles. When she took a step back, it took Ardeth all his willpower not to follow her, and he pushed the door open despite everything in him telling him not to as she smiled and reached for her throat where the chainlet of the necklace was. They regarded each other in silence for a moment longer on each side of the door, and as it swinged close, he murmured something she was unable to decipher.   
“Please, come back,” she whispered in the almost dark, then took a deep breath in and turned on her heels, walking away.

Azalea walked in the library to find Evelyn fixing her hat over her head, chatting rapidly with Jonathan. When the Englishman saw her, he grinned, and spread his arms wide open.   
“If it isn’t our dear miss wisehead!” he exclaimed, walking up to her. Before he could hug her as he used to, she hit one of his arms with a rolled up piece of paper recovered from the desk, making him flinch and take a step back. “Always a sweetheart like your father, I see,” he complained, massaging the slapped area.   
“Are you going out?” Azalea asked Evelyn, ignoring the man.   
“Just an errand,” she brushed it off way too quickly, and Azalea had to bite her cheek not to say anything. “You’re all flustered - oh! Have you seen your fiancé again?” she smiled eagerly, making the other woman frown.   
“Evie, darling, we’ve known each other for three years now, I have never mentioned a fiancé - because I don’t have one,” she cocked her head to the side, confusion painted on her face.   
“Nonsense! The one you’re always writing to, and when he comes back you disappear. He was sleeping on the couch when I was first here! I know it’s him!” Evelyn exclaimed, and Azalea felt herself blush for the embarrassment. Her neck was flushed, and her cheeks and ears heated up, a grin making its way on Evelyn’s face.   
“He’s not - we’re not - what?” she cleared her throat and grabbed the carafe on the desk in the library to quickly pour herself a glass of water. By now, Evelyn was fighting really hard to not laugh at her friend. Jonathan, on the other hand, was snickering like a child behind her back. She exhaled once she was done drinking and turned towards Evie, briefly touching her necklace, as composed as ever despite her still bright red cheeks. “He’s a friend. When, eventually, I’ll get engaged to someone, be sure I will tell you.”   
“Well, then perhaps we -” Jonathan started, but Azalea lifted one hand to shush him.   
“Not happening.” The man snorted and walked up to his sister.   
“Let’s go old mum, we’re gonna be late,” Evie smiled almost apologetically in Azalea’s direction, then they left the library.


	4. desperate, terrified, sad

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1926 A.D. _

After the fourth day of not seeing Evie nor Jonathan, Azalea couldn’t stand still.   
It wasn’t unusual for the Carnahan’s siblings to not be around - Jonathan more than Evelyn - and there had been more than one occasion when the two women hadn’t ran into each other for weeks. That time it felt different.   
She walked into Dr. Bey’s office without knocking - as she usually did - and found him tapping nervously against the desk, looking at the book in front of him. Azalea didn’t have to ask to know he was looking for information about Hamunaptra that might’ve gone missing. She had been doing the same since she’d known.   
“They are at The City,” it wasn’t a question exactly, despite the doubt in her voice - doubt and fear, mixed together, making her voice flebile. She rubbed the stone of her necklace, tugged on it a bit before approaching the desk. The curator looked at her and nodded. “And he’s there too,” he nodded again, and she sat on the desk with a deep breath in, closing her eyes. Gently, the man placed his hand over hers, patting it lightly.   
“He will be fine, child,” he murmured, but Azalea quickly shook her head, wiping her eyes with her free hand with a nervous movement.   
“Don’t say that,” she said quickly, her voice breaking mid-sentence. It pained the man’s heart to see her like that - trying to be brave, trying to show she wasn’t terrified. She’d been the same even when she was little, and he’d told her her parents weren’t coming back. He remembered her staring up at him, her huge dark eyes covered in a layer of tears, but her expression unreadable. At first he’d been worried she hadn’t understood what he was telling her, and then she’d asked him  _ so they’re dead? _ A sentence so harsh to hear on anyone’s lips, but just awful on a kid’s one. For months she’d kept it inside, until one night the nightmares had come and she couldn’t stop crying for hours and hours on end.   
Since then she’d learned to be more vulnerable - and when Ardeth was involved, he could read it all on her face. Ardeth’s mother had bet on the first day they would fall in love, and after over fifteen years Terence could see it clear as day. He wondered if they could as well.   
He patted her hand again, then got up and left a kiss on her forehead. He’d never been one for physical affection, but for her he’d learned.   
“Let’s see if we can find something more in these old pieces of paper.”

Something felt awfully wrong. The air itself was tense, and Azalea couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She kept walking up and down the small corridor, forcing herself to focus on the book in her hands, when the now familiar sound of hooves caught her attention. She’d been waiting to hear it for days - longer, if she was being honest with herself. She ran towards the back door and opened it before the man on the other side could, and in seeing Ardeth’s eyes she almost wept.   
“What happened?” she asked immediately, pulling down the part of his headdress that covered his mouth before moving his face from side to side with her fingers on his chin, trying to look for eventual wounds.   
“We have to find Terence,” he sounded exhausted, yet there was an urgence in his voice, and he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away. “Later,  _ ameli _ .” He moved to walk past her, but she quickly grabbed his arm again, forcing him to turn around and look at her. “Azalea -”   
“I know,” she exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. She had guessed. She knew it was going to be hell on earth. “I know,” she repeated, then crossed the small distance between them and placed her hands at the sides of his face gently, as if afraid of touching him. When she pulled him towards him, he bent forward almost immediately - whether it was for tiredness, surprise or actual cooperation, she didn’t know. She pressed her lips against his, holding her breath as his hands reached her waist. He pulled back for a moment, gasping softly as he searched for her still closed eyes, wanting to know what was going on in her head - he could always tell by looking her in the eyes. She was almost trembling in his arms, and before she could move away tightened the hold around her body, one hand behind her back for support and one behind her head. Then he kissed her again, and felt her exhale and relax against him, relief washing over her.   
It was not what they thought it would be, not how they’d imagined. It was desperate, it was terrified, it was  _ sad _ . When they pulled apart, they were both breathless, and neither wanted to let the other go.   
“We have to go,” Ardeth whispered, his voice deeper than usual, and she forced herself to open her eyes. When she met his gaze, his hold became a bit tighter. He cursed softly, and in another situation she might’ve found it amusing. “Why didn’t we -”   
“I don’t know,” she could’ve spent the rest of her life there, in his arms, forgetting about the outside world. She wanted to, so badly. She left a last kiss at the corner of his mouth, then forced herself to take a step back. “Let’s go.”

When they reached the curator’s office, he was staring horrified at the glass in his hand.   
“He’s here,” Ardeth took the carafe and looked at the red liquid in it before slamming it against the table, then his eyes ran to Azalea and something seemed to cross his mind.   
“No,” she said firmly, and Dr. Bey looked between them with a frown, unaware of the silent conversation their eyes were having. “No, I’m not leaving.”   
The door slammed open, and she moved protectively in front of Ardeth as Evelyn’s eyes widened. For a moment, Azalea wondered if they could tell what had happened, and almost touched her lips where the feeling lingered.   
“You!” she exclaimed, looking directly at Ardeth, and the small group of men behind her lifted their guns. Dr. Bey muttered an  _ Americans _ beneath his breath, then looked towards Evelyn.   
“Miss Carnahan, gentlemen,” he spoke politely - too politely, for someone who had four guns pointed against.   
“What is he doing here?” Evelyn asked, her voice high pitched and nervous, and Azalea found herself trying to shield Ardeth with her own body. She frowned in her friend’s direction. One of Ardeth’s hands came to rest on her shoulder, either to reassure her or move her aside should things go down quickly.   
“Do you truly wish to know?” Terence asked. “Or would you prefer to just shoot us?”   
Ever so slowly, the Americans lowered their weapons. Then the curator started to explain, revealing a secret long kept. Azalea hadn’t moved from her position in front of Ardeth, glancing to one man to the other. Her eyes rested a little longer on Evelyn - worried, confused Evelyn. Stubborn Evelyn, who kept looking at the curator, then Ardeth’s hand, then her. They were pieces of a puzzle she was too distracted to solve, and it confused her terribly.   
“And you think this justifies killing innocent people?” Evelyn gaped, appalled.   
“To have stopped this creature?” Dr. Bey asked, pretending to ponder just a second longer. “Yes!” he replied, along with Ardeth. Azalea flinched, but knew  _ it was _ necessary. Had there been another way, they wouldn’t be having that conversation.   
“It was just a book!” Evelyn exclaimed, apparently exhausted.   
“And Pandora’s was just a box,” Azalea muttered under her breath - the American closer to Evie, O’Connell, heard her anyway, and snorted. They regarded each other for a moment, then the room went dark, and they looked up at the sky.  _ The moon of Osiris, obscured by an eclipse. _   
“And he stretched forth his hand towards the heavens, and there was darkness throughout the land of Egypt.”

Waiting for O’Connell to find the other men who had taken the canopic jars, Ardeth allowed Azalea to check on him. He told her about the fights at the site, about the first man the creature had mutilated, about O’Connell holding a lit stick of dynamite in his face.   
“Americans,” Azalea had hissed, before sitting next to him, satisfied with the lack of wounds on him. Terence had told them to stay there as he checked the doors of the museum - he knew that there was a higher chance they would stay out of trouble that way.   
“He’s a peculiar one,” instinctively, Ardeth had wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, almost against him. When she moved to wrap her arm around his torso he tensed and looked at her. “Azalea, if -”   
“No,” she placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself up to face him with a firm expression. “No  _ if _ s.”   
“ _ Ameli _ , please.” She shook her head, then her eyes softened and she placed her free hand on his cheek, the warmth of his skin immediately spreading over hers.   
“I know you, Ardeth, I know what you’re thinking. Whatever happens, we are getting through this,” tentatively, she leaned forward. For a moment, Ardeth didn’t move, then his hand came to rest behind her head again - he hadn’t noticed before, but her hair was unbound, as if she’d just walked out of bed. He remembered being young and trying to braid her locks for hours, losing his temper when he failed. “And you’re not going to make some stupid sacrifice,” she whispered when he got closer, making him tense again. She met his gaze, and pressed her lips together. “Promise me.”   
“I wouldn’t do that.”   
“You would. I never asked you to promise me anything, ever. I’m asking this once,” she moved her head so their foreheads were touching, and closed her eyes. “Promise me you won’t sacrifice yourself, Ardeth.” He took her head in his hands, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Twice. “Ardeth,” she called again, a warning.   
“I promise.”

_ You’re not coming with us, end of discussion _ .   
Those were the last words he’d said to her. That’s all he could think about.  _ End of discussion _ .   
What awful words he’d choose. He thought about her parents’ last words - weird how he still remembered it.  _ It’s alright, Azalea. We love you! _ Those were words worth remembering. Words she carried with her with nostalgia, but that had managed to smooth the pain. No  _ end of discussion _ . There were so many things he wanted to say to her.   
I love you, my child. I’m proud of you. You’re the best thing that happened in my life.   
When he knew there was no going back, when he realised he had no other choice, he turned to the only person he trusted enough. He ignored the rising panic, the noise, the regret. He looked Ardeth straight in the eye and held his sword firmly.   
“You take care of her,” those were words worth remembering. Ardeth’s eyes widened, but before he could rationalise the whole thing, O’Connell had basically pushed him down the manhole.   
Terence Bey fought viciously - a part of him, wanted to go back home to his daughter so bad it ignored all the odds. And when he stopped fighting, he did it praying she would be safe, and that she would not be mad at him for not having better words.


	5. familiar

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1926 A.D. _

How could he tell her? How could he look Azalea in the eyes and tell her her father was dead? O’Connell placed a hand on his shoulder, almost trying to encourage him - they were all in pieces. For Evelyn and for Terence. _ How could he tell her? _   
“We’ll come with you,” O’Connell said. Jonathan seemed too stunned to speak, but still he nodded at his words. And for a moment Ardeth considered it - would it be better? Perhaps the courage he lacked could be found in the other two men.   
_ You take care of her _ .   
“It’s not a good idea,” he rubbed his face tiredly, then took a deep breath in. “It’s better if I do it alone. It has to be me,” he didn’t know whether he was trying to convince them or himself. O’Connell nodded, and he and Jonathan walked away as Ardeth knocked on Azalea’s door. She opened immediately, as if she was waiting right behind, and her eyes scanned the space behind Ardeth before focusing on him with fear in her eyes.   
“Where’s Evelyn?” she wondered, seeing Richard and Jonathan turn the corner alone, their shoulders slightly sagged. And then, because something in Ardeth’s expression wasn’t right, “Where is he?” she asked, breathlessly. It was a familiar sensation: watching someone do that pitying expression right before telling something awful. It shouldn’t have, but it was familiar, and Azalea felt her legs give off. Ardeth helped her inside, his arms the only steady thing she could hold on to.   
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, holding her tightly. “I’m so sorry.”   
“What happened, Ardeth?” she hated how her voice trembled, like she’d turned again into that scared little girl. She hated how the tears pushed behind her eyes, ready to fall at his next words. “Where’s my dad?” the word felt odd in her mouth - had she ever called him  _ dad _ ?   
“Imhotep told Evelyn that if she went with him, then we would walk away,” he helped her sit down on the bed, and sat next to her with one arm still around her waist for support. “He lied, and there were too many of them. We thought of trying and hold them back, or fighting our way through, but O’Connell opened this manhole,” Azalea gripped his arm, and he brushed her hair back, trying to soothe her. “Terence told us to go first. He fought until the end but he didn’t -” he wiped away the tears from her cheeks as quickly as possible as they started to fall despite her efforts. “He didn’t make it through, I’m sorry.”    
He watched as she breathed in deeply, nodding at his words, still trying to keep it together. And then he watched as she crumbled into pieces, heart shattering as she bent forward, mouth open in a silent scream suffocated by her sobbing. He held her tightly against his chest, rocking slightly back and forth and murmuring soft words in her hair. He held her tightly when her silent sobbing turned into wailing of pain - she touched her stomach, her chest, her throat, almost as if all that grief physically hurt her. For hours he held her, until she fell asleep, exhausted. Only then he allowed himself to breathe, but his chest didn’t feel lighter. 

Ardeth woke up with a jolt, hand running to his chest where he could feel the pressure of Azalea’s body - but she wasn’t there anymore. He was on his feet so quickly his head almost spun, and in a moment he was out of the room, looking for her.   
“Azalea?” he kept calling her name like a man lost in the mist, crossing the empty corridors. The silence felt unreal, and he wondered if he was still dreaming. Had he been dreaming?   
“O’Connell, shut up,” her voice came from the office right as Ardeth walked past the door. “I really don’t - there you are,” Azalea looked up when he opened the door. Her face was awfully pale, dark eyeshadows almost highlighting the red rim in her eyes.   
“Thank God,” Jonathan sighed from his seat on the couch. “Can you tell her she has to stay here? Perhaps she’ll listen to you.” He flinched at the click of the gun she then placed in its holster at her side. Slowly, Ardeth took her in: she was wearing high boots, an odd fitting pair of pants and a shirt tucked in. On the table rested a jacket, and next to it a series of weapons O’Connell was studying closely, with interest.   
“I’m not staying here again,” she declared, then met Ardeth’s eyes, daring. “Anything to say?”   
“What on earth are you doing?” he wondered finally, closing the door behind his back and crossing the room to get to the desk. She leaned on it with her hip, crossing her legs at the ankle and her arms, a stance that oddly reminded Terence.   
“We’re going to meet with O’Connell’s friend and then we’re getting Evie back,” her voice was firm, but in it Ardeth could still hear her tears, her pain, like something stuck in her throat that she could swallow.   
“We?” he glanced at Richard, then at Jonathan and lastly at the door. The American let go of the knife he was holding and walked away from the pair, pulling Jonathan to his feet before leaving the room. “ _ Ameli _ , you should stay here,” he spoke softly.   
“I won’t,” her response was quick, still firm, and she met his gaze again. “Don’t tell me it’s too risky, Ardeth. You’re going there as well, and you trained me. I can hold my ground.”   
“I know that,” he sounded exhausted. He took a step to be in front of her, then reached for her face. At first she flinched back, images of the night before cluttering her mind, but when he started to retreat his hand she took his wrist. “But with you there, I’m not sure I would be able to do my job,” he admitted, and when she moved her head so it would rest on his hand he gently cupped her cheek. Her skin was cold, tensed, and when she leaned into his touch her still unbound hair brushed the back of his hand.   
“Yes, you will,” she stated. “And I can’t stay here. He’s not here, Evelyn is in danger, and I wouldn’t know what’s happening to you. I’m coming, whether you think it’s right or not,” she turned her head to press her lips against his wrist.   
“You would cross the desert by foot anyway,” he sighed, and despite everything Azalea laughed against his skin, moving so she could hug him. With her head against his chest she could hear his heart running, and she wondered whether or not he could feel hers beating in sync.   
“Get ready, we wasted too much time,” she said at last, gently pushing him away.   
“Just one last thing,” he ran his hands through her hair, uncovering her face. He placed a slow, soft kiss on her lips, wishing the moment to last forever.   
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Jonathan yelled from outside the office, “my sister might be mummified shortly, could we get going?”


	6. you promised

_ Hamunaptra - 1926 A.D. _

Azalea didn’t remember flying. She wasn’t sure she ever had. What she was sure of was that being stripped to the wing of a plane was not the conventional way of doing it. Ardeth's arm rested on her back, almost as an extra belt as they went up in the air - she had argued that it would’ve been better if she were next to Jonathan, to give the plane a better balance, but he had refused to listen. O’Connell, from his seated position, screamed in Jonathan's direction, words lost in the wind and the rumbling of the motor.   
“Do I look bloody alright?” was Jonathan’s hysteric response, so high-pitched they all heard them. Ardeth laughed - he was enjoying himself incredibly much.   
“You alright?” O’Connell screamed in their direction, and Azalea turned her head to at least try and look at him.   
“Could be better,” she admitted, while Ardeth didn’t stop laughing. A loud shriek made Azalea bow her head and press her forehead against the metal of the wing, the wind howling in her ears as a wall of sand rose from the desert.   
“Never?” O’Connell wondered while speaking with the pilot, right as the wall grew higher and higher. A string of profanities left Azalea’s lips just as the plane was pushed forward and down. She knew then she was probably never flying again.   
“Hang on, men!” Winston Havlock exclaimed with a wild laugh. The sand kept rising behind them, and Azalea twisted in time to see a face forming in the storm - she’d never seen him, but knew it was Imhotep. O’Connell screamed like a madman, twisting the Lewis machine-gun before starting to fire.   
“You cannot hurt the sand, O’Connell!” she protested, sand grains hitting her face. She coughed behind the scarf that covered her mouth, turning around as the plane spun blindly. Ardeth’s hand pressed in her side as Winston laughed again, the wall coming down ever so slowly and then all of a sudden.   
“Here I come, laddies!” he howled.   
Before the impact, Azalea closed her eyes, holding her breath. The plane crashed on a dune, and as the sand fell over them she exhaled, moving her hands to rip the scarf off her face, her breath quickening now that she could see the ground so close.   
“A little help would be useful, if it’s not too much trouble!” Jonathan called from the other side, his voice weirdly strained. Azalea felt herself slide down the wing as her bindings came loose, and she fell on the sand right before Ardeth appeared in front of her.   
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, reaching to pull her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady and she had to balance herself against him as Jonathan yelped - then a thud. “You alright?” He took her chin in his hand, moving her head from side to side, studying her face. She took the glasses off her face, one of the lenses broken, and pulled the scarf down - shorter locks of hair stood around her head in every direction, and she tried to smother them down unsuccessfully.    
“I’m still in one piece,” she reassured him then, taking some steps away from the destroyed plane. Ardeth climbed over the gunner’s compartment and teared the Lewis gun off it’s mount, weighting it in his hand before throwing it over his shoulder along with a cartridge belt before jumping down and reaching her. Azalea arched an eyebrow in his direction, and he simply shrugged.   
“It can’t hurt the sand, but it might help with our friend,” he justified himself. She turned with a small smile on her lips in time to see Richard shaking his head and taking a step back from the pilot seat, where Havlock remained, dead.

“Hello, Horus, old boy!” Jonathan exclaimed, running towards the statue.   
“I’m amazed the Gods still let you live,” Azalea hissed before firing the last shot of the gun in her hand, blowing the head off one of Imhotep’s priests. Her aim was perfect even when she threw the weapon itself against the next mummy, its head falling off as the body kept going for a few steps. “Oh, give me a break!” she exclaimed as O’Connell threw away his guns and grabbed a stick of dynamite. He looked around for a surface to light the match on, picking Ardeth’s stubbly face. Ardeth looked at the American with a frown before he grinned.   
“Time to close the door,” O’Connell declared, lighting the dynamite stick. Ardeth quickly grabbed Azalea by her waists as she hit one last mummy, pulling her with him behind the statue as rocks fell down sealing the passage that was filled with mummies, crushing them in the process.   
“You know, miss wisehead, I’m quite impressed by your fighting skills,” Jonathan declared, getting to his feet before going back to dig below the statue. Azalea rolled her eyes as Ardeth eased the hold around her waists, allowing her to sit up properly. For a long moment, peace seemed to reign, then a low moan came from the corridor in front of them, and another group of mummies walked in their direction.   
“These guys just don’t quit,” O’Connell grabbed two guns, then met Ardeth’s gaze and froze. He knew that look, and slowly shook his head. He shot at two mummies walking in, his eyes moving from the creatures to the Medjai. Azalea had reached Jonathan’s side, helping him with the digging. Then a loud thud, right before the creatures started swarming into the room.   
“The book of Amun-Ra!” Jonathan exclaimed, and turned around to see Ardeth run in the mummies’ direction, firing until the elephant gun he’d taken from O’Connell ran out with a click. That simple sound seems to capture Azalea’s attention - her hands stopped brushing the dust off the book she was focused on and she looked up to see Ardeth fighting his way forward in a group of mummies with the useless gun. Their gazes inderlocked, and she felt her heart stop.   
“I love you,” he mouthed in her direction, unable to say it out loud, before looking at O’Connell. “Save the girl. Kill the creature,” and another pleading request that went unsaid as Jonathan’s arms locked around Azalea’s shoulders.   
“No!” she shouted, the sound almost inhuman. She fought against the Englishman, trying to get to Ardeth as he disappeared in the dark corridor. “Ardeth you promised!” she almost clawed at Jonathan’s hands as he pulled her to safety and O’Connell lit another dynamite stick. “You promised!” her scream drowned in the blowing sound of the wall coming down. Rick had tackled her to the ground as Jonathan brought the book to their hiding crook. As the dust slowly settled down again she tried to push O’Connell away from her, his ears ringing for the close explosion and her desperate cries.

_ Get off me _ she kept saying, hitting his shoulders and arms,  _ get off _ . When he looked at her face after what seemed an eternity, her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t crying like he’d expected in hearing her voice. Her breathing was ragged, and she’d stopped hitting him, arms limp at her sides.   
“I’m sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sure she heard him. When she opened her eyes, they were rimmed with red, and dark shadows crossed them.   
“Get up, we have to get Evie,” her voice seemed oddly detached, and Richard obeyed immediately. She got up on her own, bones snapping with the movements. The two men observed her carefully as she picked up the weapons she’d lost before the explosion and strapped them back on her body. She grabbed Ardeth’s sabre and brushed the dust off it, her fist clenching around the grip. A shrieking caught their attention then, and the three of them broke into a run towards the sound. Jonathan was the first one in, and saw his sister chained to an altar, squirming to break free.   
“I found it, Evie! I found the book!” he exclaimed.   
“Shut up and get me off here, Jonathan!” was her desperate response.   
A step behind her, Rick watched as Azalea fought her way through the advancing mummies. She moved mechanically, hitting and cutting without looking back, her steps taking her right towards Imhotep. Her fighting skills were truly remarkable - but then she’d been raised around Medjais most of her life.   
She was deaf to whatever was going on around her: the screaming and screeching, the priest ordering in Ancient Egyptian to stop them, Evie and Jonathan arguing about the book and the key. If she stopped for too long, she would shatter to pieces.  _ I love you _ , he’d told her, right before disappearing from her sight and breaking his promise.   
The night before, when she was too exhausted to even keep crying, she’d gone limp in Ardeth’s embrace. She couldn’t sleep, yet he must’ve thought she was unconscious, for he’d started speaking to her softly. He’d told her so many things - that he was glad she’d kissed him first, because the idea terrified him despite wanting to so badly; that he always wondered when he was going to see her again; how, when his parents had stopped pressuring him about getting married, he’d felt relieved not because it wasn’t something that he wanted, but because he kept waiting for her; that Terence had told him to take care of her, and it scared him even more than the thought of facing Imhotep again. And then he’d asked her, not expecting a reply, how she managed to still stand. A part of her had wanted to reply - except she didn’t know. She knew her grief was part of her, and she’d never let it define her. The first few years after her parents death, Terence made her take the day of their death anniversary off to do whatever she preferred, and at some point she’d just stopped making it something big, rather going on with her day as if it were just like another. Most times, she forgot when it was. The night before she’d imagined it wouldn’t be as easy - she’d spent more time with Terence than with her biological parents, and he’d helped her grow in the woman she was. He’d been her guardian, her father, her mentor.   
Ardeth had been her support. When the ceiling had come down on him, she’d felt it crumble on her as well - until she’d felt nothing at all. Nothing but rage.   
  
_ “Kadeesh-mal, Kadeesh-mal, Parod oos, Parod oos,” _ Evelyn screamed on the other side of the room. Imhotep widened his eyes in terror, and screamed when his immortal soul was ripped from him. He then turned and charged towards Evie, O’Connell and Jonathan.   
“I thought you said it was gonna kill him!” O’Connell exclaimed. His blade cut through Imhotep’s body, piercing the other side as the priest gasped.   
“He’s mortal,” Evelyn declared, triumphally. On the other side of his body, Azalea stabbed the sabre in Imhotep’s back, making him gasp again as blood trickled down his mouth. She twisted the blade and yanked it away before taking a step back, watching as he fell in the pool and his body deteriorated again, mouth open in a silent scream.   
“Time to go,” O’Connell grabbed her arm and pulled her along with them.


	7. ask me

_ Cairo, Egypt - 1926 A.D. _

Azalea watched as the place collapsed on itself, falling on the sand next to Evelyn and O’Connell. They stood and watched The City disappear, while she closed her eyes and hugged her aching legs to her chest.   
“I’m sorry about your father,” Evelyn said softly, kneeling next to her with her hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, drawing slow circles. “And about -” before she could finish her sentence, Jonathan yelped. Instinctively, Azalea took the saber at her side and turned quickly, getting on her knees, and almost stopped breathing at the sight in front of her.   
“Thank you! Thank you very much!” Jonathan was exclaiming, a hand over his chest, backing away from Ardeth. Ardeth, alive if a little bruised. She dropped the weapon in the sand and ran towards him, tackling him to the ground. A low moan left his lips as his back hit the sand, but his arms wrapped quickly around her to hold her close. Richard quickly stopped the dromedary before he ran away, then turned around. Evelyn took Jonathan’s arm and pulled him away, leaving the couple a bit of space, a grin pulling on her lips.   
“ _ Ameli _ ?” he called gently, but she didn’t move. She was shaking in his embrace, hands wrapped around his ruined robes and head hid in the crook of his neck. “Will you look at me?”   
“I love you too,” the words left her mouth rapidly, muffled by his skin and robes. But she was so close he heard her clear as day. “Why on earth did you do that?” she asked then, pressing her hands against his shoulders as if she wanted to push him away, lifting her torso from his. “You promised you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself,” she added, meeting his gaze at last. She’d been crying - all the tears she hadn’t shed in The City flowing out of her eyes.    
“It is not a sacrifice if I’m still alive,” he smiled, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The tight twist at the nape of her neck was almost completely undone, and dirt and dust covered her cheeks except for the streaks caused by her tears. It took her a moment to register his words, and when she did it she hit his shoulder, making him laugh. A real laugh, one she hadn’t heard in a while. The ache in her heart seemed to disappear in hearing him, and she leaned forward, placing a kiss on his parted lips, suffocating his amusement.   
“Oh, please!” Behind them, Jonathan groaned, turning from one couple to the other and then towards the dromedary he was holding.   
“How about you, darling? Would you like a little kissy-wissy?” the animal turned his head around, making the Englishman snort.

Things felt odd in the next few days. Evelyn, Jonathan and O’Connell decided it was best if they left for a while. Azalea had the feeling it wouldn’t be a long time before they saw each other again.   
Ardeth had gone back to his people for a couple of days - long enough to tell them what had happened, then immediately came back to her. During their separation, they had dreaded the moment they would have to  _ talk about it _ , but once he’d come back he’d went to her office, kissed her, and sat next to her to help her with the papers Terence had left for her.   
“You’re the curator now,” he told her, and she nodded. Terence Bey had thought about everything, and while a part of Azalea loathed the idea, she was grateful to him.   
Her grief was odd. Some days she barely thought about it, but she might walk into his office calling him before realising he wasn’t there. Other days she woke up, and she felt his absence immediately. Ardeth was always there, and she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he had to go. He was still Chief, and even though saving the world had given him a few days off, it was not something that would last forever.   
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her softly, sitting next to her. She curled at his side, legs bent beneath her and head over his chest. There was no weirdness between them, none of that  _ we were friends and then we said we love each other. What now? _ Their bodies found each other easily, seeking comfort in the familiarity of their warmth. If anything, things seemed to be easier - they realised they had been holding back for such a long time with how close they stood, holding hands, seeking the other.   
“When do you need to go back?” she wondered, moving her head so she would meet his gaze, hand going from his chest to her necklace, briefly touching the crystal.   
“We have time, don’t worry,” he placed a kiss on her temple, but her response was a slight pout, trying to meet his eyes again. He sat up a bit straighter, rubbing his hand against his leg before breathing in slowly. “My mother won’t let me come back,” he admitted, and Azalea immediately sat up, a worried expression rapidly taking over. “It’s alright  _ ameli _ , I just have to do something first.”   
“What?” she wondered then, and he smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Tell me!” she pleaded with a pout, his smile taking over once again. He leaned over to press a kiss against her forehead.   
“It’s not the right time, don’t worry,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“They’re getting married,” a month later Azalea grinned, falling onto the couch next to Ardeth. He was in her room, and they’d decided to take the day off from the few papers they had left. She handed him the postcard and settled back with her legs on his lap.   
“That was pretty quick,” he smiled as well, reading quickly the few lines Evelyn had written to her friend. “Do you think there’s a kid on the way?” Azalea snorted.   
“They just can’t keep their hands off each other,” she replied, and a laugh left his lips as he placed his hand on her knee. “I don’t know who’s in bigger trouble, him or her.”   
“Good thing they’re not here anymore,” he placed the postcard on the small table in front of them before leaning back, eyes half closed. “I don’t think I can handle another near-apocalypse so soon,” she laughed again, shaking her head. It was the first time they'd joked about it, feeling a bit of relief coming with the amusement.   
As Azalea twisted the chainlet of her necklace around her finger she watched as he relaxed back, eyes closed and head placed on the backrest, legs extended and arms at his sides, with one hand drawing small circles on her knee. His hair had grown slightly past his shoulder, and as he tilted his head back it left his side profile uncovered, allowing Azalea to watch him: eyelashes almost brushing the tattoos on his cheeks, lips slightly parted, clear-coloured and lighter robes rather than his black ones. She had realised that was the longest they’d been together - every day, almost all day. A part of her dreaded how much she’d grown accustomed to having him around, and she feared what happened next. Still -   
“Will you ask me?” she wondered, and his eyes opened slowly. She watched as a crease formed on his brow and he turned his head towards her, stilling the movements of his hand. He parted his lips to reply, then sealed his mouth and deepened his frown. He searched for some clues on her face, not sure what she meant at first. Her neck was flushed and she kept rubbing the stone of her necklace, the other arm wrapped around her middle and a slight smile on her lips.   
“Come closer,” he said softly, moving his arm so she could slide near him. Her legs remained on his lap, and he placed his other hand on her thigh, as if to keep her close. With his other hand, he moved her soft braid from her shoulder before cupping her cheek, allowing her to lean into him. “Are you sure?”   
“You’re afraid I’ll tell you no?” she asked with the smile still on her lips, and he chuckled.   
“I’m afraid of rushing things,” he traced the line of her cheekbone absent-mindedly, down to the corner of her mouth where he lingered for a moment. “I’m afraid that when I’ll ask you, everything will start going fast, and we won’t have moments like this one anymore,” he followed the curve of her lips slowly with his thumb, his words soft-spoken. “Sometimes I fear this is all a dream meant to be shattered.”   
“What’s there to rush?” she kissed the tip of his finger before bending forward, so her arms could be around his neck. “We’ve known each other for so long, Ardeth, and we can’t know what will happen,” she combed his hair back with her fingers, unable to hold her smile when their eyes met. “We’ve been stubborn, and blind, and now we know what has been there all along. And we’ll create these moments, my love.” He felt like something was blooming in his chest, a sensation that cut his breath short as his heart raced. “It is not a dream. Loving you is the only thing that feels real to me.” He moved forward, lips interlocking with hers as both his arms wrapped around her waists. She held him tightly against her as he laid her back on the couch, his body on hers.   
“Marry me,” he murmured on her lips, and felt her smile even though he could not see her.   
“You have to ask me,” she whispered back, hands running from his shoulders to his neck, tracing their way up his jaw. “Ask me, Ardeth,” she added breathlessly, his name disappearing in their lips meeting again.   
“Will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there she is. i'm gonna be quite honest, i'm not thrilled - i feel like something is amiss, but at the same time while writing it i felt like adding something more would be too much. so we're here.
> 
> while i've grown fond of azalea and ardeth, i know this is where our ways part. i don't like endings, i'm not very good at them either, and i like to give people the chance to imagine what they feel is more fitting to the characters. i can only send you in the right direction: from now on, it is up to you.
> 
> thanks to anyone who read, liked and commented, and to everyone who will now that i'm stepping back. i hope you liked it.


End file.
